#the farting vigilante

[kev-smell-my-fart]

hi chat i've been having the actual WORST case of art block rhis past week uhhhhhhh rule #5 of improv: always say "bones"

[theallmightymysterion]

HOORAY! ok so like this is the first time im doing this so PLEASE ask away!

[newkidramirez]

//Verses tag dump

[fidothefinch]

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Bruce was hit with the thought mid-chuckle, a forkful of birthday cake halfway to his mouth.

Dick paused in his story, ever the perceptive one. He studied Bruce just a moment, the gray at his temples making the blue of his eyes even brighter. “Everything okay?”

Bruce looked around the lawn again with fresh eyes. Tim, Barbara, Duke, and their partners were sitting at the other picnic table under the canopy, cake all-but-forgotten in lieu of whatever they were talking about.

Jason ran by with a small child on his back – it was Damian’s youngest, and Jason had sworn after their last family outing that he wouldn’t attempt piggy-back rides again, but clearly the little girl had won him over with her doe eyes. They were chased by a puppy. Scamp, if he remembered correctly.

Members of the Justice League were scattered amongst the partygoers. Clark and Lois kicked a soccer ball with some of Bruce’s older grandchildren. Jim Gordon tapped his cane against his knee as Wally recounted an old speedster story.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, Cassandra looked up from her conversation with Damian, Stephanie, and Wonder Woman. She searched him a moment, before smiling softly at him. She had laugh lines around her eyes now, and Bruce cherished the sight of them.

Somewhere between losing his parents and becoming a vigilante, he had given up the idea of a future for himself. Familiar with contingency plans, he had mentally hedged his promises with “if I make it that long.”

He always thought he would die alone in the dark.

“Bruce?” Dick repeated, next to him. He would probably be more worried, if Bruce hadn’t begun to lose his hearing years ago.

The banner strung across the canopy read, Happy 82nd birthday! Someone had added ‘you old fart’ to the end with a marker.

“Yes,” Bruce answered, and found that he meant it. “Everything is okay.”

[ohtobeleah]

I like to think the song 'I Love You, I'm Sorry' Specifically the Bridge of the song, is very Logan Howlett x Reader coded. And stick with me for a moment because I'll explain what I mean. It's early days, like truly early days in your relationship. So early that you don't even know if the feelings you feel are real or just lust-coated wishes.

I love you, I'm sorry

You were the best but you were the worst As sick as it sounds, I loved you first I was a dick, it is what it is A habit to kick, the age-old curse I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad Stare at the crash, it actually works Making amends, this shit never ends I'm wrong again, wrong again

I feel like it would be the reader who has this shit on repeat in her little cafe. Just doing the ordering, or enjoying five minutes of peace that comes once in a blood moon when you run a cafe that's a vigilante's wet dream.

"You listen to this song an awful lot," Logan grumbled as he took a sip of his coffee. Black, nothing sweet, no milk, no cream. "It's like an unrelenting Groundhog Day of bad music." Deep down, Logan only says it because he knows your attention is on the books in front of you and not on him.

"If you'd pay attention to the lyrics, you old fart, then maybe you'd understand why I like it so much," You don't even look up from where you're writing down your next order of alternative milk. But smile nevertheless because you know Logan has no intention of admitting he'd ever be into the same music as you. "It's about you."

"Like fuck it's about me," Logan replies with a frown. "How is it about me?"

"Logan," You sigh as you finally look up across the table. You're slightly frustrated because you need to focus, but you can't be mad at the brooding oldie sitting across from you when he gives you that shit-eating grin you love so much. He wanted your attention, he got it. "I sometimes wish you had mind-reading capabilities because then you'd know when I'm tellin' you to piss off." Logan chuckles at your attempt to flirt. He can smell your arousal from here, but would never mention it. The two of you had never crossed that line...Yet. It's not the only thing he can smell. He can smell your perfume. The Black Plum and Vanilla one. He can smell your shampoo. The juniper and white lilly one. He can even smell your annoyance for the way he's tapping his knee against yours under the table. The gentle knocks keep breaking your concentration and it's making you more and more flustered.

"I'd only wanna read your lips anyway," Logan takes yet another sip of the coffee he loves endlessly but would never admit to your face that your coffee doesn't make him want to kill himself. "Come on, enlighten me a little here."

You just stare at Logan for a moment, really just drinking in his entire being. Fuck, you were really falling for his son of a bitch, weren't you?

"You always call yourself the worst Logan there is. The worst version of yourself across all the realities and different timelines," You explain as you pack up your things. "But to me, you're the best, and I loved you before I ever had any chance to see your flaws, for the many that you fucking have," You sit in silence for a moment, just at peace with the fact you'd told Logan that you loved him in a very unconditional, non-traditional way. "Do with that information what you will, I have work to do you."

Later that same evening, when Logan knocks on your front door, you glimpse the song he'd last been listening to on the little iPod you gave him that you found in an old junk drawer. You raise a single brow as you lean against the doorframe and smirk.

"Gracie Abrams, Huh?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Ilya

[bibibbon]

You know it's funny (but it's really not) how Izuku is there for Ochaco when she bawls about being unable to save Toga - yet she and the rest of 1A abandon Izuku for eight years while he has no quirk and can't act as a hero.

He could really have used some support from his friends after the war and dealing with his new quirklessness, yet she and the rest of 1A - poof! Gone like a fart in the wind.

She isn't beating the fake friend allegations which is worse for her considering Hori tried some half hearted set up for IzuOcha with her crush on Izuku that seems to have evaporated now.

It's sad but a repeating thing it seems like. Everytime someone needs help (well majority of the time) izuku is there and indeed offers help or what he can but when izuku needs help there aren't people who help him. I was hoping in chapter 429 that ochako and izuku would at least be able to have a proper heart to heart where they both comfort eachother and izuku talks about tomura but no the narrative continually shuts Izuku's trauma and strips him of any agency or autonomy. In the end Izuku is never allowed to unpack his emotional baggage and trauma he also is never allowed to rely on anyone properly which is just sad

They graduated 6 years ago (izuku lost his quirk shortly after graduation if Iam sure) so Izuku has been quirkless for 6 years however, it does hold truth 1A isn't a found family. All we know is that due to work they don't talk much but like you have technology and everything so it just seems like they straight up abandoned him in a way just to be seen interacting with him when he is a hero which leaves a bad taste and impression on me.

The thing is Izuku could of very much used support from his classmates after the war and while you can argue that they all had their own trauma to deal with that is also their friend (supposedly) and in chapter 429 asui literally told ochako that she wanted her to open up to her but I suppose there's no one for izuku to open up to as he does try to reach out to his classmates but they reply with "they're fine" or something else which is disappointing since they did say that they were there for him during the vigilante arc (although I still don't like how they got him back to ua)

I can't say much about izuocha since horikoshi used it as a way for ochako to develop out of her crush which I think was horribly done and introduced a weird dynamic that didn't make sense while making ochakos character full of wasted potential.

[xspeter]

𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑰𝑮𝑨𝑵

𐬺 ➾ 𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚！𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𐬺 ➾ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 (𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆) 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝑱.

𐬺 ➾ 𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡！

It wasn’t fair.

You had been dreaming about going to prom with Peter Parker since you were six years old, and now, some girl Peters barely known for a year, gets to accomplish your dream? How is that fair?

You stir your punch, legs crossed as you watch Peter and MJ dance. Your own date, some guy you barely even know, is behind the bleachers making out with some girl you don’t even know the name of. That doesn’t bother you though, no, Peter is bothering you.

It hurts even more because it’s not even his fault! He doesn’t know that you’ve been practically in love with him since the first grade, so how can you expect him to do something about it?

So lost in your own self pity, you don’t notice the sound of a chair behind pulled out next to you.

“Hey,” Ned says, a slight smile on his face, “How are you feeling?”

Ned is the only person (besides your mom) that knows how you feel about Peter. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” You seethe. Ned rolls his eyes, he takes a sip of his own watered down punch, and gives you a, stop-bullshitting-me look.

You furrow your brows, “What?” You exclaim, arms crossing over each other.

Ned gestures to Peter and MJ briefly, “So you’re just staring at them like you want to murder them for fun?”

You scoff, “I’m not staring at them.”

You choose to ignored the way your voice wavers, and you’re thankful Ned chooses to ignore it too. “Whatever you say… Look, if you get sick of sitting here by yourself, me and Betty are only a couple tables down.” He says, getting up and walking away, but not without a final sympathetic glance at you.

You nod in acknowledgement, shooting Ned a reassuring smile.

Once he walks away, you pull your eyes back to Peter and MJ, only to find that they’re gone. Your eyes fart around the room, looking for the couple but coming up with nothing.

You bite your lip. If they walked away from the party to get some privacy then you should let them have that, but what if they didn’t walk away? What if they were forced away?

You were one of the only people who knew that Peter was Spider-man, which meant you were one of the only people who knew the constant danger he was in. Which meant if he was in trouble, you were one of the only people who would know. So you should go look for him, right?

You stand from your chair abruptly, causing it to make a loud screeching noise against the gymnasium floor. People in the tables around you glance at you, and you awkwardly clear your throat and give them all an apologetic smile.

You swiftly make your escape from the gym, ignoring ned as he attempts to talk to you as you walk past his table. You quickly flutter your eyes open and closed as they adjust to the bright of the hallway as you exit the dark gym. Slowly, you begin to walk, keeping yourself vigilante for any clues that could leed you to Peter or MJ.

As you walk farther into the school, you hear the faint sounds of giggling.

“Peter, what are you doing?” A female voice shrieks, one you know belongs to MJ. Relief fills you at the revelation that neither of them are in danger, but dread replaces it as you realize the other possibility.

Slowly, you follow the voices until your against the wall next to them. You flatten yourself against it, doing your best to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible.

You listen as Peter shushes MJ playfully, and the girls giggles softly in response. Logically, you know it’s in your best interest to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to.

Peter softly pushes MJ against the wall, softly he says, “Can I kiss you?” MJ nods swiftly. As soon as he gets her consent he’s quick to connect their lips. You feel sick, and your hands ghosts over your stomach.

Tears fill your eyes as you make a quick escape for the gym. Once you make it, you rush past a confused Ned and Betty and begin collecting your things. Your date, who must’ve reappeared somewhere in the last ten minutes, smiles once he sees you and begins to try and make conversation, but you shoot him a glare that effectively shuts him up.

You leave the gym with tears dripping down your cheeks, trying and failing to hold down your sobs. You quickly climb into your car and slam the door shut. You were Peter and MJ’s ride but you could care less if they were stranded, as far as you were concerned they could stay at the school all night.

Rationally, you know you have no right to be feeling like this towards the two of them. You technically have no real claim on Peter and he could kiss whoever he wanted, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

You pull out of the highschool and break practically every traffic law in existence to get to your home. Once you make it, you stumble into your house and begin to tear off your clothes and pull your hair down.

Your mascara runs down your face as you pull onto a baggy shirt and throw yourself onto your bed, too exhausted and depressed to take off any of your make up or shower.

You continue to hiccup, closing your eyes and attempting to get some sleep, but your thoughts are still plagued with thoughts of Peter and his stupid, pretty face.

You wake up to the shrill sound of your ringtone. With a groan, you turn it off, already knowing who’s at the phone and why they’re calling.

You attempt to close your eyes and go back to bed, but you’re interrupted by your door bursting open and an angry looking Peter stepping through the threshold.

“What the hell, y/n?” He seethes, “Me and MJ were stuck at the school for an hour before May could come get us!”

You smile victoriously, “I’m sorry?” You giggle. Peter furrows his brows, “Sure you are.”

You roll your eyes and check your phone, it’s nearly midnight. “Jesus, Peter. It’s almost midnight- why the hell are you here?”

Peter looks at you like you’re stupid, “Because something is clearly wrong, and i’m not just gonna let you sit here and be depressed about whatever it is by yourself.”

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing and a fresh set of tears beginning to fill your eyes. Even though you abandoned him at the school- he’s still trying to make you feel better. Why did he have to be so nice? Why did he have to make this harder then it already was?

“I’m not upset.” You mumble, arms stretching out behind you to prop yourself up.

Peter sits at the end of your bed, causing it to sink a bit. “Where’s MJ?” You ask. He smiles at the mention of her, “We took her home.” He says.

You hum in acknowledgment, eyes looking past Peter, because you know if you look at him right now you’ll burst out crying.

Peter, always so in tune to your emotions, immediately notices the shift in mood. “Hey, hey…” He scoots closer to you until you’re face to face. His hand cups your cheek, “What’s wrong?”

That’s when the dam breaks. Your lower lip wobbles as a new cascade of tears flows down your cheeks. You push him away, practically jumping to the other side of the room to put some space between the two of you.

“Please, just please Peter, just go-” You beg.

Peters eyes snap open as he stands from your bed. He knows well enough to not attempt to get close to you though. “Not until you tell me what’s bothering you!”

“Nothing is bothering me-”

He laughs at that, “Then why are you crying?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest, you scoff out, “It’s none of your business.”

It’s Peters turn to scoff as his eyes practically bulge out of his head, “It is my business y/n! We’re best friends, we tell each other everything! Just tell me what is bothering you so I can help you feel better!”

“I can’t!” You sob.

You can see Peter trying to put it together in his head. He suddenly steps closer to you, eyes searching your face for, well, really anything at this point.

“Is someone threatening you?” He asks seriously. His hands reach out for yours, but you’re quick to pull them behind your back. Hurt flashes in his eyes at this, but still, he persists. “If someone is hurting you because you know me then you have to tell me. Mr. Stark and I can-”

“No one is hurting me!” You huff. You do your best to maneuver around the taller boy, who has somehow cornered you against the wall, but he stops you. Peter gently grabs you shoulder and keeps you in front of him. “Then what is wrong?”

“Please don’t make me say it.” You gasp, “Please, Peter, don’t.”

Peters eyes soften as he pulls you against his chest. You sob into his shoulder, arms circling around his torso and squeezing him against you.

He pulls back, his hands cup your face and he smiles, “There’s my girl.” He says adoringly.

Your lips twitch into a smile and then fall again. “You have to go, Peter.” You mumble. The brunette nods and pulls you into his chest once more. You squeeze him like this is the last time you’ll ever touch him, because as far as you know, it is.

It’s been nearly a month since prom, and you and Peter have spoken possibly three times. It’s not his fault really, he’s just so busy with him and MJ’s new relationship and you, well… you’re not really making any effort to hang out with him. It hurts too much- having to listen to him gush about how in love he is.

Too busy playing with the food on your tray, you don’t notice that you’re staring at Peter and MJ across the lunchroom until someone waves a manicured hand in your face.

“Um, hello? Anyone home?” Gwen jokes. You roll your eyes and drop your fork. Gwen pulls out the chair across from you and drops her tray with a bang.

“I’ve been trying to get her attention this whole time.” Kate says. Gwen shrugs, “Well, you know how she gets when she sees… well. Y’know.”

Kate nods sympathetically and you cross your arms over your chest. “You’re both so dramatic.”

Kate and Gwen share a look.

“How are the plans for your birthday party coming along?” Kate asks, and you’re grateful for the change in subject.

You shrug, “They’re coming.” You say, taking a bite of your mashed potatoes. Gwen snorts, “Coming.” She laughs. You and Kate groan, “You’re such a child.” You say endearingly.

The three of you laugh and continue to eat. You each throw in little comments here and there, and you don’t even notice when Ned sits in the empty chair next to you.

“Hey.” He says with a polite wave. He nods to Gwen and Kate in greeting and the two follow suit. “Hey, Ned.” You respond with a warm smile.

Ned clears his throat, nervously he asks, “Are you avoiding Peter?”

You furrow your brows and glance at the boy in question. Peter is staring right at you. When your eyes meet, he’s quick to look the other way.

“No, i’m not. Why would you think that?”

The boy shrugs, “No-no reason. I was just… wondering.”

You roll your eyes, “Tell Peter if he wants to talk to me he can do it himself.”

Ned opens his mouth to protest but you give him a glare. He nods solemnly and walks gloomily to Peter.

“I think I lost my appetite.” You say. You pick up your tray and leave the table without saying goodbye to a concerned Kate and Gwen.

You throw your food away and head for the bathroom. You’ve spent way too much time here these past couple of weeks, either to just get a breather or to sit in cry. Right now, you want to sit and cry.

You look in the mirror and watch as fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks, eyes glassy and cheeks beginning to redden.

You drop your backpack on the floor and lean against the sink. Face falling into your hands. A position you’ve found yourself in way too many times.

You aren’t even sure what hurts more- Peter and MJ’s relationship or the fact that you had no right to be mad at Peter and especially not MJ. They didn’t do anything. If you really considered yourself Peters best friend you would be happy for him, right? So then why aren’t you?

Is it because you’re too selfish? Is it because you want Peter all too yourself?

Yes, you think, Is that too much to ask for?

You’re pity party is interrupted by the door opening, and you’re quick to wipe your face and pretend that the mascara stains on your face simply aren’t there. And you’re praying the other person does the same.

Clearly you did something to make the world fucking hate you, because of course Michelle fucking Jones is the one who walks in the bathroom. You sniffle and keep your head down, avoiding eye contact.

Her hair is pulled back in a low pony, some strands left out to frame her face. She’s wearing a simple blue crewneck and baggy leggings. She’s one of those girls who make looking homeless look good.

“Oh,” She clears her throat, “Sorry to… interrupt.” You nod in acknowledgment, immediately attempting to push past her and walk out of the bathroom, but she stops you.

She stares at you for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then says, “Are you in love with Peter?”

You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, your heart falling to your stomach. You suddenly feel nauseous- like the room is closing in on you.

“Who told you that?”

She shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “No one. But… it’s not hard to tell.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.You shouldn’t be surprised she noticed. MJ’s always been an observant person, she’s always been able to read right through you- so why did you think you could hide this from her?

“Look,” You huff, “I’m not- I’m not going to act on it so you don’t need to worry-”

“I’m not.” She blurts, “Worried, I mean. I know you and I know that you just want Peter to be happy. I just wanted to tell you that… i’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen and you look at her in shock, your hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She’s apologizing? For what? Have you really made her feel so bad about being happy wirh someone that she felt the need to apologize?

You feel like a terrible person, your eyes welling up with a new set of tears.

“You have nothing to apologize for-” You start, but she interrupts you again.

“No, I do,” She sighs, she grabs your forearms and bites her lip. “I…I knew. I knew and I still went after him and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your jaw clenches as a new wave of emotions crash over you. She knew how you felt and she still went after him? Doesn’t that violate like every single girl code there is?

Through your anger, you manage a smile. It’s not her fault, you remind yourself. Peter was so.. so easy to fall in love with, if you were in her shoes you probably would’ve went after him too.

An awkward silence filled her revelation, but through bated breaths you manage, “It’s fine.”

MJ looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, and maybe you have.

“The heart wants what it wants right?”

Birthday parties have never really been your thing. You always feel awkward at them, with all that attention on you. Some people revel in it. You are not one of those people.

You continue to brush out your hair, pulling it back and out of your face to allow you to start your makeup. Your parents are out in some business trip, and as far they’re aware, you’re just going to dinner with a few friends.

You huff and continue to do your makeup. You rarely ever go all out usually, not unless it’s a dance or something like that, but tonight is different. Tonight you’re going to look amazing and you’re absolutely positive about it.

You carefully pull your party dress over your hair, which you just finished doing. The dress is black and lacy. It has spaghetti straps and it reaches to your middle thigh. The material is skin tight and silky to the touch.

You pull on your black heels and walk to your full length mirror. You smooth your hands over sides and make sure you’re comfortable with how you look. You smile and take a deep breath tight as your mom calls you to the living room.

You walk down the stairs slowly, a smile on your face as you see Kate and Gwen talking to your mom. Kate is wearing a beautiful purple dress, the top is tight but the bottom is slightly flowy and it reaches her mid thigh. She looks almost like a princess.

Gwen is wearing a tight sequin teal dress. Her hair is up in a low messy bun with some strands framing her face. “You guys look amazing.” You compliment. At the sound of your voice both of them snap their heads towards you and their eyes practically bug out of their head.

“No fucking way! You look beautiful! Is Peter coming? He should be able to see what he’s missing.” Gwen mumbles the last part, but you still hear it. Your heart pangs a bit at her suggestion but you still put a smile on your face. You explain that you had invited Peter before any of this had even happened, and as far as you knew, he would still be here.

Gwen made a face at this, but didn’t say anything. You shrugged, “Besides, it’s not like we aren’t friends anymore. I just needed some space so I could get used to him and MJ being together. I’m basically over it at this point.” Kate and Gwen shared a look at your blatant lie, but you choose to ignore it.

An awkward silence seeps into the room that all of you choose to believe isn’t there, and it isn’t broken until the first couple of guests get there. You hope up and quickly instruct Kate to dim the lights and start the music, which she does. The room is covered in an incandescent glow now, and the familiar sound of Spotifys, “Best Pop Hits of All Time” playlist begins to play.

You open the door and see the familiar face of Flash Thompson as well as a bunch of other faces you hardly recognize.

You furrow your eyebrows at Flash’s smirking face, “Last I checked, I didn’t invite you.” You snarl. Flash shrugs and pats your shoulder, “Happy Birthday, Sweetie.” He walks past you, and the rest of the guest follow suit.

By the time Peter arrives the place is packed. He can barely turn the corner without nearly running into someone, and the music is blasting so loud his senses are beginning to go awry.

He catches a glimpse of you dancing with Gwen and Kate, your eyes are sparkling and a real smile is on your lips. He thinks it’s the first real one he’s seen on you all month.

His lips twitch up, and his heart aches a bit at the current state of your relationship. He has no idea why you’re avoiding him, but he’s determined to find out tonight and fix it.

You however, have no idea Peter is even there. You’re too busy dancing and finally letting loose. Any thoughts about Peter or about school or even about your life seem to have completely left you, and finally you feel happy. You feel free.

“Happy Birthday Bitch!” Kate exclaims and you laugh heartily. This day really couldn’t be any better.

“Hold on, I’m gonna go get something to drink!” You yell over the music, you practically run to the “punch” (you spiked it) and fill it to the brim of your cup.

You gulp it down, hardly hearing someone calling your name. You glance to the side and see a smiling Peter, but you’re too buzzed to even care.

“Peterrr!” You squeal, immediately throwing your arms around the boy. Peter seems taken aback by your sudden show of affection for him, but he doesn’t push you away. “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”

You step away from him with a dopey smile on your face, “How have you been?” You question, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.” Peter cringes and laughs nervously, “I’m fine, but today’s not about me. How are you, Birthday Girl?”

You shrug, “Today? I’m great. Every other day, not so much.” Peters smile falls slightly at your revelation. He knows if you weren’t as drunk as you were you would’ve never admitted something like that to him.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He says honestly. You smack his arm and laugh, “I bet you are.” You giggle, and then you kiss him on the cheek and walk back to the dance floor.

Peter really, really needs to find out what’s been bothering you.

The next two hours you spend partying and drinking, getting drunker and drunker as the night continues. Peter has soent the night much different then you, him and MJ mostly keeping to themselves, but he’s been trying to figure out when and how to talk to you.

Eventually, he finds you again grabbing the cake out of the fridge and placing it on the dining table. Peter smiles softly at it, his mind taking him back to all the other birthdays the two of you have shared together.

“Let me guess, half vanilla half chocolate?” He asks you. You loved vanilla, but Peter loves chocolate. So when the both of you were even you decided to go half and half during both of your birthdays, so you could both enjoy the cake together.

“Of course it is.” You slur.

Your obvious drunkness makes Peter question if tonight is really the right night to be doing this, but he knows if it doesn’t happen tonight, it never will, and then things will just continue to get worse. So her takes a breath and asks you, “Can I talk to you?”

You furrow your brows and cross your arms over your chest, “What about?”

Peter looks around at all the watchful eyes and listening ear around you, and gently he grabs your arm and leads you to the backyard. The area is relatively empty minus the few stragglers who aren’t even sober enough to discern their ass from their head.

He takes a breath and watches as you glance around. Your arms cross over your chest as you suddenly feel uncomfortable. “What’s going on?” You ask.

Peter takes a deep breath, “Look, Y/N, I know that you’re avoiding me, I know that for some reason that I can’t wrap my head around that I did something, but I really can’t figure out what it is.” He rambles. You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he interrupts you. “And I really just want to know what I did and how to make it better. So please, please just tell me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath begins to quicken. All the alcohol you consumed seems to have vanished as you feel more sober then you ever have in your life. You don’t know how, but you know tonight is going to change everything.

“I’ve already told you Peter, nothing is wrong.”

Peter rolls his eyes and clenches his fists at his side, “Are we really doing this again? The lying?” You squeeze your eyes shut. Peter takes a step towards you and pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “What is wrong, Y/N?”

“I’m in love with you!” You finally blurt, “I’m in love with you and I have been for years. I didn’t know how to tell you and then you and MJ started dating and I just- I just couldn’t take it. It was selfish and I am so fucking sorry.” You’re crying by the time you’ve finished.

Peter looks shocked, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. You both sit and stare at each other in silence, the music from the party blaring from the inside of the house.

Peter swallows, “I have to leave.” He mumbles, immediately walking past you and practically running into the house.

You cough out a sob and cross your arms across your chest. You almost feel relieved that the truth is finally out there, but Peters reaction causes a whole new set of emotions to wash over you. You aren’t sure of a lot, but you do know that you and Peters relationship will never be the same after this.

Peter knows he fucked up. He knows leaving you there by yourself was not the way to handle that situation, especially not after he basically forced you to confess to him- but he didn’t know what else to do. This changes everything for Peter.

What you don’t know, is that it took Peter years before he was able to finally accept the fact that you didn’t like him like he liked you and to move on. Thats what his and MJ’s relationship is supposed to be, him moving on, but now…

He swings himself across New York Cities skyline, trying to understand what his next move should be. He can’t just break up with MJ, doing that would solve absolutely nothing, but he knows he doesn’t love MJ like he should.

He doesn’t love her like he loves you.

Peter eventually climbs his way up to the top of the Empire State building, a sandwich from Mr. Delmar’s corner shop resting in his lap.

He sighs and runs a masked hand over his face. On one hand, he has his current relationship with MJ. He liked MJ, yes, but he was in it for all the wrong reasons, and breaking up with her would just hurt her which is not something he ever wants to do.

And then there’s you. His childhood friend, the girl he fell in love with, the girl he wants to marry. But he’s practically ruined any chance he had with you. There’s no way you’ll ever want to talk to him after this, and as far as you know, he doesn’t want to talk to you either. Plus, if he broke up with MJ and then confessed everything to you there’s no way you’d even want to be in a relationship with him! (Not that he blames you.)

Even with all these thoughts swirling in his head, he knows he needs to do one thing, and that’s find MJ.

When he reaches her apartment, me knocks on the door solemnly. MJ opens it nearly immediately, and the look on her face shows that she knows why he’s there.

He smiles sadly at her, “Hey.” He mumbles. She just nods in greeting and steps out of the way to let Peter through the door.

She guides him to her room, where they both sit in an uncomfortable silence. “MJ-” He begins, but she interrupts him with a hasty kiss. It’s passionate- but only on her side. Peter sorta just sits there like a hunk of flesh and rests his lips against hers. When she pulls away there are tears in her eyes.

“I know, Peter. It’s okay.” She whispers. She squeezes his hand, and Peter’s eyes well up with an on-set of tears.

“I am so, so sorry.” He says shakily. MJ shakes her head and smiles at him reassuringly, “You have nothing to apologize for. I know you loved her when we started dating, it was just a matter of time before you realized it yourself.”

Peter bites his lower lip, a string of new emotions hits him like a truck. He had been so stupid to think he would ever be able to get over you, and he hates that he’s only just now realizing it.

MJ kisses him on the cheek one final time, “Go to her.”

Peter nods and quickly exits the house, he practically throws himself across buildings to get to you.

You one the other hand, have since practically kicked everyone out of your house so you could sit and wallow in your own self-pity. Kate and Gwen had insisted they stay but you refused saying you just wanted to be alone.

Now, you sit in the dark of your bedroom. Your house is a disaster, but your heart hurts way too much to even care.

Your mind runs through every memory you and peter have together- from the time you met when you were five years old, to now, when you’ve practically ruined any relationship you hoped to have with him.

The thought only rips more sobs out of your throat. You really have no idea how you’re even able to still be producing tears with how much you’ve cried this past month, but here you are, makeup ruined and your eyes practically blood shot.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear a knock on your window. You don’t need to look to know who it is. The noise usually brings you comfort, happy to know Peter felt safe enough with you to come visit you after patrol- but now… now you know what’ll happen when you open that window, and you know it won’t be anything good.

Peter knocks again, a bit louder this time, and you finally force yourself to get up. You don’t bother trying to fix yourself, Peters seen you at your worst too many times to count.

You pry open your window with a soft grunt, and peter pulls off his mask and crawls through. He stumbles a bit once he lands, but he finds his footing quickly. He smiles shyly at you, but you turn around a cross your arms over your chest. You sit on your bed, causing it to sink a little bit with your weight.

Peter feels awkward and uncomfortable, which is something he never thought he’d feel when he was with you.

“Y/N…” He sighs, “I am so sorry.” You shrug your shoulders, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t like me and I was stupid to ever admit that to you, especially not when you have a girlfriend.”

Peter shakes his head and leans against your wall, his arms crossed over his suit, “I don’t have a girlfriend. Not anymore.”

Your breath hitches and you finally look at his face, “What do you mean?” You mumble.

Peter shrugs, “I broke up with her.”

Your mind can’t process what you’re hearing. Why would he do that? You can’t conjure up any reason other than he had to be possessed.

“Why the hell would you do that?” You question, standing from your bed and begin pacing the room. “I mean seriously Peter! She loves you! You need to get out of here and go fix it with her!”

Peter chuckles, even through everything you’re still worried about him. “Funny,” He says, “She told me the same thing.”

You stop walking and immediately a feeling of guilt begins to settle in. You ruined MJ’s chance at happiness because of your own selfishness? You promised her you wouldn’t act on your feelings and yet here you are.

“If you broke up with her because of me then you’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind.” You seethe.

Peter shakes his head, “That-That’s the thing Y/N! I didn’t break up with her because you told me you love me, I born up with her because I…” Peter takes breath and squeezes his eyes but, “Because I love you too. And I was stupid for not acting on it sooner and forcing us into this mess.” He confesses.

Your heart practically stops. You can’t believe what you’re hearing and you can’t even look at him.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Peter shakes his head hastily and steps towards you. “I do though. I have loved you for years Y/N and I thought you didn’t love me back so I tried to move on and!- well, you know the rest.”

You swallow, and finally look up at him. Your eyes shining, “So you really love me?” You question.

Peter smiles and wraps his arms around you for the first time in what feels like months.

“I’ve never loved someone more.”

tag list - @fictional-characters-i-love-them

[manicplank]

Ways The Noise Has Died

I have a headcanon that The Noise can die and respawn. (He's cursed, but sometimes he takes advantage of it.) These are just some of the ways he's died. He does a lot of stupid shit.

Hit by car: 3

Lung cancer: 2

Throat cancer: 1

Fallen from building/height: 2

Shot by police: 7

Drowned: 1

Execution by electric chair: 1

Eaten by alligators: 2

Smashed by piano: 2

Killed by Peppino: 15

Heart attack: 3

Diabetes: 3

Fire/burns: 5

Explosion: 22

Spontaneous combustion: 4

Eaten by shark: 1

Poisoned: 1

Internal bleeding: 2

Septic shock: 2

Execution by guillotine: 2

Bleeding out: 4

Head trauma: 5

Forgot to breathe: 18

Killed by Toppin Monster: 3

Mauled by bear: 1

Ate something inedible: 6

Forgot to eat (starved): 3

Alcohol poisoning: 6

Dehydration: 3

Eaten by tigers: 1

Strangled by Pizzahead: 2

Stung by bees: 1

Run over by boulder: 1

Struck by lightning: 2

Led poisoning: 2

Ate paint: 3

EDIT from replies:

Killed by Noisette: 1

Radiation exposure: 2

Choke on food: 12

Organ failure: 7

Froze to death: 1

Allergies: 3

Land mine testing: 2

Food poisoning: 28

Jetpack failure: 6

Sucked into black hole: 1

Inhaling carcinogenic gaz: 7

Talking back to his mama: 1

Banished into the shadow realm: 2

Dark magic spell failure: 4

Touching electric plug with a fork: 5

Stunt failure: 35

Edit from replies 2:

Got skewered in a magic trick gone wrong: 11

Got caught in a mousetrap: 6

Rat poison: 25

Burned alive: 4

(Feel free to suggest ways he's died. Silly little bastard is always up to no good.)

Hit by a train: 2

EDIT by replies 3:

Washed out to sea: 4

Battle with Doise: 1

Fallen into volcano: 7

Mocked Pepperman’s art: 3

Sucked into tornado: 3

Kicked by cow: 1

Crushed by his crusher: 4

Ate Fake Peppino’s food: 2

Slipped on banana peel: 18

Rabies: 4

Pissed off Dougie Jones: 1

Shot by alien raygun: 3

Crushed by tree: 1

Buried alive: 3

Shot by Vigilante: 2

Knife juggling: 4

challenged God to smite him: 1

Fallen into bottomless pit: 7

Eaten by piranhas: 3

Bitten by zombie: 1

Air balloon crash: 5

Tried to light his fart on fire (gone wrong): 1

[corinthianism]

labyrinth | peter parker

pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader additional tags: fluff, meet cute warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst

summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death. note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!

The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.

There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once. 

He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!” 

You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad. 

“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”

The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign. 

You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.

Not that you could, but he couldn’t either. 

A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.

“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.” 

It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.

“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”

This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.

“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.

You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.

“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”

Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here. 

Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.

Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?

How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did? 

He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.

For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold. 

Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.

Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!” 

He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough. 

In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.

It took you a while to recognize him.

“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?” 

Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”

You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”

There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.

“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.

“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!

Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”

You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?” 

You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”

In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.

One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement. 

It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.

Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“You’re doing such a good job :)”

“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”

But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.

“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume. 

One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide. 

“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.

Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then. 

In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed. 

Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.

“Who is it, Peter?”

He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”

“Who’s making you happy?” 

Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”

May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.

“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”

Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.

“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped. 

Since. 

Since Gwen.

In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?

Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.

Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy

Beloved daughter and friend

March 2, 1996 - July 2014

A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory. 

“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He struggled to keep his composure.

“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”

Soft footsteps came from behind him.

“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”

The dam broke. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.

You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.

Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”

“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”

He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”

A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.

He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.” 

You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”

Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.

Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.

He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.

“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”

There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.

“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.” 

You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”

It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.

“Peter—”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“Peter—” 

“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”

“Peter!”

He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.

“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?” 

Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.

He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him. 

The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.

When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 28 “Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer” [Episode List] Thanks to Dave and his farting skills, a certain ass-kisser learns the hard way that some asses can be quite dangerous.

POV: Dave

Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer

It was late night, around 2:30 AM.

I parked the car in the middle of a big parking lot just out of town, lots of trees and bushes hiding the whole place from the busier streets only a few blocks from us. I admit I felt a bit nervous for a moment, but overall I was quite confident everything’s was gonna go according to plan. 

A co-worker from Dana (my girlfriend)’s law firm, a 30-something guy, is being, well, kind of a big asshole and, ironically enough, a big kiss ass too.

Now, I know my girl can fight her own battles, but I kind of had to step in once we found out that this guy was a slicker, selling confidential data to other law firms, basically hijacking every case for money. Also, he’s being a nuisance to Dana and other co-workers, going as far as framing them (including her) for whatever scam (or other bullshit) he was doing.

I’m not a vigilante nor I like the idea of being one, but come on, this guy needs to be taught a lesson. And since he always gets away with everything because he’s an ass-kisser, well… I thought it’d be fun giving him a fitting punishment.

Yes, I’m going there. You know what I’m talking about.

And you know what I’m capable of.

Also, I’m aware this is a very stupid and irresponsible thing to do… so it’s fun, right?

“He should be here any minute now.” I said, hands on the steering wheel.

I was wearing a black face-mask to hide most of my, well, face, the cold dark night hiding the rest of me. 

In the last couple of days I’ve been messaging with this wannabe criminal, pretending to be someone interested in buying confidential data. Not rocket science, and this guy wasn’t a criminal mastermind… like he addressed himself as multiple times.

Seriously.

“Really, Dana? This is the guy?” I remember asking her a couple of days ago, with my girlfriend being as confused as me about how much of a kiss ass you need to be to even look like a competent person in front of your boss and co-workers.

“He’s an idiot!”

But now I’m here, waiting in my freezing car (I really need to fix the damn A/C) for this man to show up so I can properly give him a lesson.

You all know that I’m very good at this and I’m quite confident myself about my skills; still, I wanted to throw in some extra fuel, so I had some chips and a very tasty, spicy taco… which I actually needed ‘cause I was starving.

What’s nice about my talent is that my farts are not as big as they are because I have a weak stomach. On the contrary, they’re as huge as they come because I have a very strong one.

Your belly hurts after eating at BellTaco? Sucks to be you, because I don’t know what that is: it all gets nicely converted to gas, dry powerful gas that I can effortlessly get rid of as if I’m breathing (from my ass… ok, you get the idea). 

Then yes, I will take a good shit after a while, I too am a human, but we’re not here for that.

All you need to know is that whenever I face-fart my bro Tim, as disgusting as that is, I’m actually impressed by how he’s able to endure it. Not all my farts smell horrible, I’d say that I can roar very loudly… without biting too much, or not as much as you might expect, especially considering that I can fart like crazy even without any “fuel”.

But when they do smell, unless you’re as strong as Tim, you’re not gonna survive them. 

I won’t even need to face-fart you directly: my farts have a quite wide, high DPS AOE.

And to be honest, that’s what the food I ate is for: flavor. 

Yes, that’s a sentence I just said.

I can always rip long, loud and big ones, and while they do smell… they’re easy to endure. But throw some beer or some junk food into the mix, then you’re up for a good time.

And again, unless you’re Tim, with “good time” I mean “your nostrils will burn.”

“Here’s our guy.” I whispered, my eyes glued on the figure approaching the car.

I signaled the man with the car’s headlights and he responded with a quick gesture.

He quickly got into the vehicle and looked at me, looking serious… but not serious on purpose: it’s as if he was trying his best to play the part of a shady businessman.

“Are you… Scorpion?” 

I almost laughed like an idiot.

Yes, I actually used a code-name and I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t ready for how ridiculous that was gonna sound during the meet up. Thankfully, the face-mask successfully hid my cheesy grin, so my eyes could (tentatively) do the serious talk. To avoid any further risk, I simply nodded.

“Good.” he said. Then he proudly patted his chest. “I’m Dura Lex”.

I started coughing, a deft way to hide the fact that I was now laughing. What the fuck did I get myself into? Who’s this guy?!

“Are you okay, Scorpion?”

Somehow that didn’t kill me and I managed to get myself together, fully aware that I was looking and sounding as ridiculous as him anyway.

“Sure.” I simply replied.

“That’s a good meeting spot. The darkness shall hide our deeds.”

Please, stop talking like this.

“I got the documents, if you’re still interested.” he pulled out of his jacket a folder and handed it to me.

“You can keep it… Dura Lex.” I had to pause for a few seconds, and not for dramatic effect. “For now.”

“Come on man, my ass is freezing.” he lamented, in a more nasal voice than before.

This guy’s “shady criminal mastermind” facade sure wore off quite quickly.

“You’re freezing, Dura Lex?” I asked. “Do you want me to… heat things up?”

I went for “tough guy”, but I’m pretty sure that sounded “unnecessary flirty” instead.

“Get to the point, Scorpion!”

You only had to ask. 

Eyes glued on him, my right hand on the steering wheel, as if nothing weird was happening, I broke the silence by producing a muffled, rumbly sound with my ass. I was wearing a pair of jeans, but no clothes can stop my gas from reaching your nose.

“Are you…?” 

The man was baffled, confused, surprised. Truth to be told, I can understand that.

I can’t blame him… but I will blow him… err… blow him away with my farts I mea- never mind, you get it.

The fart was warming my seat up and my face mask protected me from my own stench (which I was immune to anyway). I still had my eyes glued on Dura Loser or whatever his codename was, waiting for a reaction, which showed soon.

A disgusted facial expression appeared on his face. “Oh m-my God.” he stuttered, he coughed.

I leaned a bit to ease the fart out, and it got louder.

“What’s happening, Dura Lex? Something bothering you?” I said, pretending nothing weird was happening, almost yelling, so he could hear me over my loud fart.

“You’re a sick person, Scorpion. I’m outta here.” 

My first blast ended after like 6 seconds. It was loud, airy, disgusting… and it was burning my asshole a bit. Spicy food tends to do that, but that also makes the stench more nauseating.

The man was trying to hold his breath already as he tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Open this damn door!” he asked. Or rather, he begged.

“What?! Leaving so soon?” I replied, the mask hiding my smirk. “I thought a professional ass kisser like you would love this!”

I ripped another loud, quick rip, leaning a bit more, so he could hear it clearly. A taste (or a threat) of what’s to come in a few minutes.

“Would you please stop with those damn toots?!” he screamed. Never seen a person so terrified of my farts.

Also, that was very offensive. Dude, I'm barely getting started! I carefully stretched my right arm towards him, my hand now firmly holding his mostly bald head.

“You thought those were toots, Dura Lex?” I firmly asked. 

Now he was the one nodding.

“My bad!” I slowly pulled his head towards my ass. I leaned a bit more so I could more easily plant this man’s face where he belongs. “Allow me to fix that with the next one.”

The man tried to resist but my grip was strong enough to keep his nose as close as it needed be, right into my ass, which started to roar as soon as I finished talking.

A loud, deafening fart instantly hot-boxed the entire car. 

“Oh my God!” he screamed, retching over the stench that burned his nostrils. “Let me go you asshole!”

I could barely hear him over my fart. “Yes, that’s where this is all coming from! Of course a kiss ass like you would know!” and I pulled him even closer to my denim-clad anus.

Tim usually just stays there and takes it, because of his fart kink, but I was struggling keeping this man where he belongs, as I kept farting right onto his face. 

After 12 seconds, my blast finally ended.

Actually, it stopped ‘cause I wanted to. I wasn’t done.

“So, Dura Lex…” I started talking, pulling his face up, out of my ass, so I could look at him properly. “What were you exactly gonna do with those confidential documents?” 

The man looked more confused than nauseated. “What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer. Enjoy kissing my ass.”

I pushed him down again and I immediately resumed farting, the blast being even louder than before, as if the fart itself was mad it got interrupted. 8 more seconds of pure flatulence Hell, as I could tell because the stench was now so strong it even got past my mask.

I once again pulled the idiot up, who at this point simply accepted that he was basically my puppet as he stopped fighting back, probably startled by my gas too.

“So, I’m gonna ask again: what’s up with those confidential documents?”

Dura Lex shook his head. “Kiss my ass, Scorpion!” he managed to reply.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say that.” I replied. "Like, at all."

And again his face was planted into my warm ass, which I made sure it was sagging, his nose rubbing on my denim and my blue underwear, which only made the stench more unbearable for him.

“Well, now you’re in the position to say that.”

I ripped another loud fart, which was greeted with more retching from my newest victim. As much as the small space of the car let me, I tried to stretch me left leg up, easing the fart out, and also because so I could more easily glue this man’s face into my cruel, farting ass.

The spicy junk food I ate earlier turned my anus into a fire-breathing gas weapon. I gotta say, I’m surprised this man hasn’t passed out yet because even the car windows are fogging up. 

I wasn’t instead surprised at all by how big my farts were instead. I told you I’m good at this.

It kept going strong, as if Lex’s face wasn’t even there. I gotta say: he may be a jerk, but he was taking it like a champ… if we don’t count all the annoying whining at least.

“What the fuck!” he tried to get away one more time, but I kept his face down there, where it belonged, so he could breathe all of my gas in.

14 seconds and the fart finally started to lose power. For him it must have felt like hours.

Again we did our little “dance”, with me pulling his head up to question him.

“Just tell me what I wanna hear, Lex.” I said, with an evil smirk he couldn’t see because of my mask.

“I’m not talking.” he replied.

“That’s wise. You shouldn’t speak when your mouth is full.” 

I pushed him down again, firmly planting his nose between my asscheeks, only a thin layer of clothes protecting his nose and mouth from the deep burning Hell that my asshole was becoming. I ripped another fart, as loud as the previous one, but much shorter.

Indeed, a very loud toot, 2 seconds long.

Still holding his head still, I spoke to him.

“Say it!”

“No! I'm not gonna say any-”

Another fart silenced him.

“Say it!” I insisted.

“Never!”

“Congratulations then! You just found one ass you’d never wanna kiss!”

Another loud, long blast followed and rumbled all over this man’s face. I could do this all night: I knew I had gas to spare. He was gonna break soon.

I made his nose rub on my sagging clothes so much so that it lowered my underwear as well, so the jerk's nose was in direct contact with my bare asscrack, right as I kept blasting him, basically wiping my ass on his face, the stench of my gas being mercilessly shoved down his throat.

15 more seconds of loud noises, a loud chainsaw-like sound making the entire car shake. Then, finally, silence again.

“Just say it, you bitch.”

“Fine!” he whined.

I pulled him up, his face sweaty and as smelly as my ass.

“I’m selling confidential documents.” 

“And?” I threatened him by pushing him towards my ass again.

“And I’m making sure my co-workers get blamed for it.”

“Clever bitch.” I replied, satisfied with the answer.

I vehemently pushed him back on the passenger seat, his back hitting the door on his side of the car. 

“Did you get that, bro?” I said, looking behind me, towards the back seats.

My friend Tim, who was lying back there the whole time, hidden under a black sheet, revealed himself. To keep his face unseen, he chose to wear a lobster mask which, to be honest, looked unnecessarily terrifying. 

“Got every word, chief!” he said, holding his smartphone up, which he used to record everything.

I stared back at the man, with a smug, satisfied look.

“Fuck off. Both of you!” he yelled, pointing at us.

“Hey. Manners!” I said, as annoyingly as I could.

“Fuck you!” 

Alright. One final lesson.

“Do you know why they call me Scorpion?”

“What?”

I once again reached for his head.

“Come here!” I shouted, in the deepest voice I could make.

I pulled his face down and the moment his nose touched my ass, I blasted him with another loud rip, or ‘toot’ as he dared to call them.

It was short (for my standards at least, about 5 seconds), but dense and stinky. My asshole was burning.

Once I was done shitting gas, I shoved him back to his place.

“So…?” I asked.

“I’m… I’m just gonna leave.”

I unlocked the car doors so he could get the fuck out of my car.

“You ruined me, you… you gassy, sicko monster!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my job and my damn money you bastard!”.

“Aw…” I said, mockingly slapping his cheek. “You’re a criminal mastermind, Dura Lex, you’ll figure it out.”

Both me and Tim laughed at him and he left, taking the documents with him.

After a few minutes, once we made sure Lex left for good, my bro Tim got on the passenger seat next to him.

“That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible.” he commented.

“Awesome, right?” I replied, even though he was right.

“Totally.” he admitted.

We removed our ridiculous masks and I drove the two of us back home. I rolled the windows down ‘cause even though my bro had a fart kink… even him couldn’t handle the stench I produced.

“Come here? Really?” Tim asked, all of the sudden.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the reference.” I said.

“I did, that’s why I’m cringing hard.” he joked.

“Oh I know you’re hard.” I teased him.

He just remained silent, which I found hilarious as usual.

“Don’t worry bro: you’re still my favourite fart victim.” I teased him again, like the annoying bastard I am.

Tim laughed a bit, shaking his head, as if he was still in disbelief about me being so chill about his kink.

“I guess you just love destroying my nostrils then.” 

I winked at him in response, a smug smirk drawn on my face.  I leaned towards him and whispered:

“Clever bitch.” 

The End

[kev-smell-my-fart]

ough yeah, i forgot about this ms paint doodle from a bit ago!!!! just a glimpse at my version of human vigi 🫶

[sreppub]

i feel like whenever jason and tim argues jason or tim pulls out something like “shut the fuck up or i will spit on your face” or “i will fart on you”

it’s just siblings doing normal things

(jason once did farted on tim while he was sleeping but noone knows it)(i was there)

-:)

yeah honestly i just think it's really funny when they're super normal and domestic even though they're impossible ninja vigilante people who fight aliens and shit

[smallbraintime]

Dp x dc prompt because I had a brain fart.

Danny is just chilling in the ghost zone when suddenly a child. A child who is supposed to be alive rn actually. Danny simply leads the soul back to the living realms and returns it to the small child in a coma leaving a means to summon him.

Bruce wakes up from a coma to his life turned upside down. Mom is the joker and Dad is not with him at the moment. At least he has something to do like reading the note on his bedside table.

As time goes on Bruce goes from little kid who can summon one entity, to a preteen with a magic book and a handful of spells in his pocket, to batman's sidekick a teenage vigilante who uses magic like its second nature, to an adult warlock who is an important part of the justice league Dark.

And Bruce never truly stopped summoning phantom. The being who has been there every step of the way.

[simplegenius042]

Fallout Casting for Satoru "Kakashi-sensei" Gojojojo for Jujutsu Kaisen Abridged react fic

"Five bucks and I'll tongue punch your fart box." - Satoru Gojo, Episode 3 JJK Abridged (by The Schmuck Squad).

Reasons To Why I Believe These Characters Should Be Cast As The Variant of JJK Abridge's Satoru Gojo are listed below the cut:

Elrand Brandt (Fallout Vault Dweller OC, faceclaim Jason Statham) -> In his twenties and had told the Master to kill himself.

Finidy Mona (Fallout 2 Chosen One OC, faceclaim Jessica Alba) -> "Chosen One" will be as close to "Honored One" as Fallout will get.

Alph Dolen (Fallout 3 Lone Wanderer OC, faceclaim Sam Blackensee. Has transformed into a Ghoul) -> Fawkes talked about how it was his destiny to save Project Purity and his hopes and dreams died in his early twenties.

Raul Alfonso Tejada (a ghoul mechanic that helps out Ryder in Fallout New Vegas, follows her around after she saved him on Black Mountain and is inspired to pick up his guns again to protect those of lesser fortune) -> He's badass and voiced by Danny Trejo. Also got very father-figure vibes going on. And lost a young female companion (his sister) like Gojo had (Riko) whom they were both trying to protect.

Nate Gust Sarid (Fallout 4 Sole Survivor OC, faceclaim Steven He. He is a Synthetic Human) -> The SPECIAL cheat stats make a lot more sense with him given the context that he's a synth, which could be similar to Gojo's cheat skills in general. Not to mention they're both (basically) fathers (Shaun for Nate and Yuji & Megumi for Gojo).

Vega (Fallout 76 Resident OC, faceclaim Yvonne Strahovski. Has transformed into a Super Mutant) -> Both are selfish and have unbreakable egos.

Tycho (from Fallout, a Nevada ranger who's wandered the Wasteland of California, he helps Elrand beat Gizmo and takes on the Master's Super Mutant army) -> Hides his face and a total all around badass.

Roger Westin (from Fallout 2, an NCR congressman fighting against the corruption within the New California Republic with underhanded tactics to build a peaceful, civil expansion into the north) -> Badass breaking the rules to do the right thing.

Butch DeLoria (from Fallout 3, Alph's former childhood bully in Vault 101, now one of his closest allies after the Lone Wanderer saved the life of Butch's mother from Radroaches. After Alph and Amata we're run out of the Vault, Butch helped build up the rebellion against Overseer Almodovar, and had managed to slip out of the vault to get Alph and Amata's help. After resolving the issue, Butch joined up with Alph and Amata to wander the Capital Wasteland, becoming the founding members of the newest Tunnel Snakes) -> He's rocking a style and while he can come off as a jerk, he's got a heart of gold, though never a push-over.

Joshua Graham (from Fallout New Vegas' Honest Hearts DLC, Joshua is Caesar's former Legate, now known as "the Burned Man", he resides in Zion to help the Dead Horses (as well as Daniel and the Sorrows) against the threat of the White Legs. Ryder gets some very important insight from him on how to deal with Caesar's Legion) -> Okay, so his eyes aren't blindfolded, but he is bandaged up elsewhere. And not to mention his voice is captivating. And he'd probably despise his Gojo variant which makes for some humorous opportunities.

Deacon (from Fallout 4, the Railroad's top intelligence agent and overall the best spymaster you'll ever meet, he trains Nate in the art of espionage and being a better liar. Had given Nate trust issues for a while when partnered together. He also helps Nate discover he is a synth and come to terms with his newfound existence) -> He's got the charisma. He's got the sunglasses. He's got the lies and the confidence. He's got the vibe of a responsible irresponsible adult. He's got the vibes of a back-alley drug dealer guaranteed to give you the good stuff and be there with you to make sure it goes alright. He's probably stolen caps from Carrington. He's the man. The goat. The guy the Railroad keep around because he's really good at his job even if his tactics are questionable sometimes.

Remember, for the alternative option, REBLOG and put in the tags WHO else from the Fallout franchise should be Abridged!Gojo and WHY you think they'd better suit the role.

I've also created and will continue to update (until the polling is done) a Master List for the poll results of the casted winners. You can find it right here.

You can find my Fallout OC profiles Master List right here, which also includes a link to the original post where I pitched my react fic idea. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, chow!

[pin-crusher2000]

Character files 001: Jacob Grayson

FireWing is a young vigilante/superhero who is also the son of Nightwing & StarFire plus the twin brother of NightStar. He is also the co-leader of the superhero group: Young Titans.

Appearance: a young man with tan white skin (a slight orange tan due to his mom) human green eyes (that glows fully green light when using powers and/or angry) & black hair that has a little of bright red hair dye.

Outfit: a purple & white version of nightwings outfit but the blue bird is a white flame/he has a Nightwing version where the blue bird is a flame design.

Personality: laidback, goofy, serious, a good sport like his dad and kind, sensitive, & emotional like his mom.

Powers: FireWing has half tamaranean dna, which means he can absorb solar radiation that allows him to fly, gain super abilities like strength & speed, and due to his mothers, is able to shoot out fireballs called StarBolts in forms of balls, energy waves, & a flamethrower move. (In case you’re wondering, yes he can & will light his farts on fire 😂 extra fun fact)

Trivia/Fun Facts:

Knows how to juggle; his dad taught him.

He has special type of escrima sticks that allows him to channel his starbolt energy into to create energy constructs like swords or axes, he can also use it like a laser beam gun by pointing the tip at something & firing it like a pistol both non-lethally & lethally, he can also use it as a torch to see in the dark.

Loves to play basketball 🏀 he is also on a team at his school.

His favorite heroes are: his parents, twin sister, the teen titans (both his father’s version & Red Robin’s) & Superman.

In my universe: FireWing & his sister NightStar are ancient descendants of the goddess X’Hal, which means they possess the ability to have a transformation ability: they gain sharp cat teeth & fingernails with spiky & bright hair like in anime with glowing eyes, there are three different levels: green, red/orange, & purple. (Along with their starbolt colors) their mom & aunt does not have this ability due to…..reasons lol

One more thing: in the comics they would leave like a flame/light trail from their hair when the fly, in my universe it only happens when they are in their transformation state.

[wastewaifs]

funke's vigilante work includes:

farting at the police

farting at n*zis and n*zi adjacents

farting at landlords

farting at terfs, who aren't so visible in 1996, but he has the vision and he can See

gets to fart near One Random White Lady Of His Choice every now and again, doesn't need a reason

farting at bullies

farting in chain restaurants

farting in starbucks

farting at catcallers

farting at reckless drivers

farting at people who walk their dogs off-leash next to busy roads

(accidentally) farting at innocent animals

farting at people trying to clean up graffiti

farting at people graffiti-ing harmful content

farting at street preachers